


Fixation & Linger

by levitatethis



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-18
Updated: 2010-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fixation":  Sylar tries to figure out why Mohinder means so much to him.<br/>"Linger":  Mohinder knows the words Sylar needs to hear, but is hesitant to admit them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fixation & Linger

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mylar Fic party post. Prompt credits to greyelveneyes

**Title: ****Fixation**  
**Rated:** PG13  
**Word Count:** 294  
**Characters:** Sylar/Mohinder  
**Summary: **Sylar tries to figure out why Mohinder means so much to him.  
**Warning:** A hint of a sexual situation

 

What is it about him?

The question hung loose in the air with no answer to anchor it to. He has asked himself that question many times before.

Mohinder is a cipher.

He is infuriating and relentless and Sylar should be done with him, no apologies offered or questions asked. He can’t pinpoint the moment when this _man_, this dime-a-dozen _human_, began to matter so much. He is a thorn in Sylar’s side, a challenge that refuses a declared ending. He refuses to let things be, forcing Sylar to think and rethink his own place in the world and the justifications he wraps around himself like a warm blanket.

Mohinder is his touchstone.

He is passionate and exposed; his feelings plain as day on his face even behind a stoic mask and squared shoulders. The faint nervous hitch in his voice makes Sylar hard, but not as undone as when Mohinder knowingly pushes up against him and palms him with one hand, stroking him through his pants. It is then when Mohinder’s words are unwavering, clear with intent. They roll off his tongue and dance across Sylar’s lips, curling in the heat of his mouth. A shared breath between them transforms their bodies into one, curved angles and muted groans, gasps and hard thrusts; and no one should be able to reduce Sylar to this. No one.

What is it about him?

The only thing Sylar knows for certain is that at some point in time, at some tiny flick of a moment in this expanding universe when everyone was looking the other way and the earth was no longer flat but the sky was falling and home was a distant destination on an ever retreating horizon, Mohinder crossed his mind, and never left. 

 

**Title: ****Lock and Key**  
**Rated:** R  
**Word Count:** 650  
**Characters: **Mohinder/Sylar  
**Summary:** Mohinder knows the words Sylar needs to hear, but is hesitant to admit them.  
**Warning:** Hint of a sexual situation

He knows Sylar wants to hear it, needs to.

It’s a vulnerable state for such an otherwise powerful man to be in and Mohinder considers it with a curiosity not easily abated. Sitting up, he rests his back against the headboard and watches Sylar pull on his pants and begin looking around for the t-shirt that was hastily discarded the night before. He purposely avoids Mohinder’s eyes.

Mohinder can’t bring himself to utter the words that lie restlessly on this tongue, and give Sylar the satisfaction of knowing the truth with absolute certainty. It’s too much power in his hands. But holding on it is doing neither of them any good. It’s making Sylar more stubborn and moody with each visit and Mohinder more anxious over a potential slip of the tongue in the heat of the moment.

He should just say it. They both know, anyway. All these secretive meetings, running around behind everyone’s backs, are their own admissions—but words have power.

Meaning that Mohinder has the upper hand right now.

He stands up from the bed, grabbing a pair of his crumpled jeans from the floor and pulls them on, casting a few furtive glances at Sylar (who is stretching his black t-shirt down across his chest) over his shoulder. Mohinder pretends to fumble with his zipper, or maybe he really is too nervous over what’s about to happen. Ignoring the top button he turns to face Sylar and can feel his heart pounding furiously in anticipation.

Running a hand through his messy hair; Sylar quirks an eyebrow in his direction.

“You know you have me,” Mohinder says quickly, but it’s clear enough to stop time and freeze Sylar in his place.

Mohinder nervously pushes his hands in his pockets and takes a few steps around the bed, then drops his arms at his side. Sylar has him caught in a fixed stare and an unreadable expression.

Mohinder swallows awkwardly. “You have for a long time.”

Whether he does it on purpose or not, he can’t say, but he places his right hand over his heart and adds, “Under lock and key.”

When Sylar says nothing Mohinder knows this was a mistake. It would have been easier to admit he has feelings for him than to admit Sylar owns his heart. What the hell was he thinking? Has he fallen prey to another one of Sylar’s cunning manipulations? He’s now handed him the lynchpin.

Immediately Mohinder wants to take it all back, pass it off as a joke, when Sylar is suddenly stalking forward and backing him up against the closed door. Their eyes never stray, their mouths hover inches apart, as Sylar slowly trails his hands down Mohinder’s body to his thighs.

He fits his hands underneath and then lifts Mohinder up, pressing forward, with Mohinder instinctively wrapping his legs around Sylar’s waist. At the same time, Mohinder drags his hands across Sylar’s shoulders and around his neck, fingering the short tufts of hair that skirt the top of Sylar’s neck.

Any doubt Mohinder felt melts away.

Sylar nudges Mohinder’s nose with his own and captures his mouth with a searing kiss, heated and wet, tongues tasting the sweetened taste of an absolution neither of them deserves but will steal nonetheless. It strikes a strong contrast to the carnal desire obvious in their hardened states, pushing against each other, rutting for the friction that is pleasured sin. To the end of the world—

Sylar pulls out of the kiss, slightly, and Mohinder opens his eyes. Already out of breath, any last remnants nearly escape at the sight of insatiable want in Sylar’s hooded eyes. Mohinder cups his cheek and Sylar seems to break from the reverie.

A small smile kicks up the corner of Sylar’s lips and he brings his right hand to Mohinder’s face, gently rubbing his thumb across Mohinder’s lips. “You had me first.”


End file.
